


HIGH CONTAST

by anti



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Violence, i guess i'll add more stuff as it comes up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti/pseuds/anti
Summary: Akira find that he can't get Mishima's damaged face out of his mind whenever he sees him. He decides to indulge in the strange fantasies the sight stirs up in him.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Mishima Yuuki
Kudos: 2





	HIGH CONTAST

A few months had passed since Akira’s first encounter with his classmate Mishima, and although the two of them were adequately acquainted now, for some reason he couldn’t shake the vivid image of the former volleyball player’s bruised and bandaged face from his mind. The administrator of the Phan-site would occasionally contact him regarding the requests posted in his comments, but it was somewhat rare for either of them to go out of their way to see the other in person. He figured that Mishima most likely thought nothing of it; he didn’t seem to have many friends. However, in the times they did meet up, Akira saw his beaten face once more. He found it almost elegant, in a way. Pale skin marked with dark contusions and scratches, a bandage placed carefully here and there. He didn’t quite understand why the sight intrigued him. Perhaps Yusuke’s constant ramblings of aesthetic and composition had begun to influence the way he viewed the world. Regardless, it was difficult to ignore the feeling he got when Mishima crossed his mind.

The Phantom Thieves had successfully stolen yet another corrupted heart, this time belonging to a mob boss by the name of Kaneshiro, several days prior to a less than eventful afternoon in which Akira found himself sitting alone on the couch in his attic. Normally around this time of the day he’d be spending time with one of his teammates or helping one of his contacts with something work related, but his choices seemed rather limited. He had had enough. He checked his phone for what seemed like the thirtieth time in the past hour. A red tick denoted that he had received a notification from Mishima earlier, though he opted not to open it at the time as he wasn’t quite ready to see what sort of Mementos excursion would be detailed in the message. 

When he opened it he was surprised to learn that the message was not Phantom Thief related, but was rather mundane in nature. His acquaintance was simply looking to hang out. He figured he didn’t have much to lose, but again the image of a damaged face appeared in his head. Though usually disregarded, Akira decided to indulge for a moment. Why did this thought in particular stick so vividly in his mind? He still wasn’t sure, but the associated strange feeling returned momentarily. Maybe he wished he had inflicted the marks. Either way, he figured it was probably best to shelve any sort of inklings his musing might cause to surface. He stood up from his couch and arranged to meet Mishima at the diner. 

After quickly getting ready, Akira left Morgana behind and said goodbye to Sojiro. He made his way to the small eatery on Central Street, where he spotted Mishima standing in front of the stairwell. His classmate certainly wasn’t outstanding in the context of the people around him; standing about a head shorter than Akira, his only particularly notable feature was his short stature. He dressed plainly, garbed in an unremarkable baseball tee and what looked to be a pair of second-hand jeans. Akira recognized his shoes as the same ones he used to wear to volleyball practice. He approached.

“Hi, Akira! Uh… I hope I’m not bothering you by inviting you out today,” called Mishima. His enthusiasm was undeniable, but his voice wavered somewhat. Akira could tell he was a bit nervous, though this wasn’t a surprise to him. Considering the abuse, rejection and isolation he’d endured prior to Kamoshida’s change of heart, it would be odd if he wasn’t a bit on edge. In fact, Mishima seemed almost well-adjusted at this point. He thought again for a moment about the state Mishima was in when he met him, questioning again why it appealed to him so much. His pale face seemed almost flawless. Akira wished to see contrast in it as he had before. Now was not the time though; he could mull it over later.

“It’s no trouble. Shall we?” said Akira, motioning towards the stairs. He took the lead as they ascended, the hectic sounds of Shibuya giving way to the cozier sounds of the diner. He detected an empty booth in a rear corner of the restaurant and headed towards it, with Mishima following almost uncomfortably close behind. After taking their seats, a waitress soon took their orders and they were left alone to talk. Akira hadn’t prepared any sort of topic for conversation beforehand, but it didn’t take long for his afternoon companion to jump headfirst into a dry, Phantom Thief centric monologue.

“You’re so reliable, Akira! The Phan-site really appreciates all the requests you’ve taken care of...”

Mishima’s voice faded in and out as Akira’s mind wandered elsewhere. He was drawn to his classmate’s pretty face yet again. He looked at his wide eyes, avoidant as they may be, situated between spiky lengths of hair that fell on either side of his face. The short, unkempt hair caressed his soft cheekbones, accentuating the short distance they protruded from his face. His jaw was rather round; its soft curve made way to a lightly pointed chin. His lips looked small and unsure, as if they were hesitant to speak, and Akira was sure they would be in someone else’s presence.

“...the new feature I added that lets fans decide when…”

Akira considered which of Mishima’s qualities Kamoshida had found particularly compelling. The former coach had clearly singled out a select few individuals that he was especially drawn to mistreat. Could it have simply been weakness? Appeal based on appearance? A willingness to submit? He would surely never know with certainty, but he entertained the question nonetheless. He thought about how Mishima’s eyes displayed such emotion, reflecting so tellingly whatever he may be experiencing. Akira had seen them filled with frustration, excitedness, determination, and fear. If he so desired, he would be able to elicit multitudes from them, he was sure. Perhaps Kamoshida had been drawn to them in the same way. 

“...and if you keep taking more of the requests, maybe I could implement a feature that…”

Mishima frequently made it clear that he wanted nothing more than to help out the Phantom Thieves. Whether it was updating his website or relaying requests, he was always eager to do everything he could to ensure the success of the team. This assertion was reinforced in most messages Akira received from him, and occasionally he wondered where the line of his devotion was drawn. He considered this question in the midst of Mishima’s ramblings, and once more he saw bruises and bandages in the back of his mind.

“Hey, are you even listeni--”

“Mishima,” he interrupted, not even sure if he’d meant to. Akira hadn’t been paying much attention to what his classmate was saying, as he’d heard the spiel countless times before. It probably wasn’t too important. 

“Don’t you think you could be doing more for our cause?”

The line flowed from his mouth almost reflexively. His thoughts had begun to flow together, apparently culminating in what upon reflection seemed to be the beginning of an experiment to gauge Mishima’s allegiance to his team. He gazed at his companion, whose mouth hung slightly agape as he blinked several times. He looked a bit confused. It certainly was a strange question to direct at his undisputedly biggest fan. Suddenly, Mishima lowered his head.

“Anything you need, please tell me! Anything!” he pleaded. The desperation in his voice tasted sweet to Akira. His bowed head sprung up again to look at him; his expressive eyes seemed especially frantic.

“Anything!”

The word came slowly this time, heavily emphasized. Akira could feel the word in his stomach; perhaps the eye contact solidified this feeling, but he could tell that Mishima truly meant that he would do anything that he asked him to. This wasn’t a shock, as Mishima had something of a submissive streak stemming from the coercion and abuse he’d endured. It seemed odd that despite the fact that his classmate was considerably freer after Kamoshida’s defeat, he remained an eager follower. Akira figured that some people just preferred to live that way. He decided that he would pursue this speculation further. Besides, no coercion would be involved in his endeavor; Mishima was obviously more than willing to be involved in whatever scheme Akira could cook up, so long as he had the opportunity to help out his heroes. But what sort of thing should mark the commencement of his project?

“As I thought. We should probably talk more at the hideout,” said Akira, drawing out the last word to entice Mishima. He figured anything he could do to make him feel more involved would be beneficial to his scheme. 

After paying the bill, he and his friend left the restaurant, and he led the way to Leblanc. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, prompting Sojiro to briefly look up from his reading. Business must have been slow. Every booth in the cafe was empty, and the greeting he received was little more than a grunt of acknowledgement. Mishima went pretty much unnoticed. Sojiro decided that their arrival signified the end of his day and left quickly, locking the door behind him, and more importantly, leaving Akira to his own devices. Morgana was nowhere to be seen, but this was not of Akira’s concern at the moment. All he could focus on was what he would task Mishima with. 

Akira took a seat on the couch next to his TV stand and watched Mishima look around his room. He seemed elated to be able to see the residence of someone whom he held in such high regard. After he made a full turn in appreciation of his surroundings, he hesitated. He looked to be agonizing over where he should sit.

“Why don’t you take a seat next to me on the couch?” suggested Akira, patting the cushion beside him. Another moment of hesitation, and Mishima quickly took his seat. His posture was strained and uptight; back rigid, shoulders pulled inward, eyes focused on his hands clasped in his lap. Akira inspected him for a moment, and noticed that in addition to his anxious demeanor, his cheeks were flushed a soft pink. He hadn’t seen this color cross his face before, and thought about what it could be signaling. He considered for a moment the context in which he invited Mishima back to his room. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him this flustered. Though his friend’s face tended to be animated, Akira hadn’t before considered how being alone with his crush would affect his expression. Now that his opportunity had come, he was pleased. He felt a smirk grow slowly on his mouth. He leaned in, closing the gap between them, leaving just a few inches between their faces.

“You’re pretty cute, you know.”

As the words left his mouth, he watched the soft hue of Mishima’s cheeks darken considerably. He wondered what other colors he could elicit from his friend’s face. He opted to leave contemplation of such things for later; right now he needed to address Mishima’s avoidance of eye contact. He slowly reached up and placed a hand on his jaw, coaxing him carefully into facing him. Now able to view him properly, Akira appreciated the gentle features of his face yet again. His skin was smooth, almost pristine, but he knew otherwise. He wondered how difficult it was to bruise. He wondered what it would mean to find out.

He blinked hard to refocus and notice that Mishima’s mouth hung open slightly. He could just barely see his teeth, and he grew a bit curious about them. Without much thought, he released his jaw and stuck a finger in his mouth. It rested on his lower incisors, and he could feel his soft tongue under his fingertip. He removed the finger and replaced it with his thumb, this time on the right side of his mouth, where he placed it on his molars. It was amusing to inspect him in such a way; it felt somehow innocuously innocent. Akira delved deeper, pushing his thumb between his top lip and his gum. Now, with a much better view, he could appreciate that Mishima was diligent in his dental care. His teeth were almost perfectly straight, save an upper left cuspid that was slightly shorter than the matching one. 

When Akira was finished playing with Mishima’s mouth, he removed his fingers, leaving his friend with a confused look on his face. He didn’t think much of it; Mishima wasn’t in a position to question things at this point. As the weight of experience set in, he began to look absolutely dazzled. Akira raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was running through his classmate’s head. Nothing he had done was an attempt to elicit a particular reaction, but he was pleased nonetheless with the results of his toying. He wished he could take a perfect memento to show for this moment.

“Hmm… I think I’ll be needing you to do some errands for me, Mishima,” said Akira, his tone flat as if nothing had happened. Mishima’s face was still entirely flushed, so he doubted much would come of a request at the moment.

“You’ll be purchasing a camera for me, one that instantly prints photos,” he explained. The idea of being able to instantly preserve a hard copy of Mishima’s expressions was novel to Akira. Though he could easily take a picture on his phone, a physical keepsake was much more compelling.

Mishima still sat on the couch looking absolutely dumbfounded, but came to as Akira snapped his fingers a few times in front of his face. His eyes returned to their normal state, emitting curiosity and a certain air of innocence.  
“Uh… yeah! I can do that. I’ll find the perfect camera for you!”

Akira was pleased to see that Mishima was enthusiastic about his request. Since the Phantom Thieves had tackled so many of the requests that he had relayed, it seemed only fair to send him on a task of his own. What exactly Akira would use the camera for, if at all, was uncertain, but he felt like it would be a valuable tool regardless.

Finishing up their exchange now that Mishima had gotten his wits about him, Akira walked him downstairs and out of Leblanc, directing him to the nearby train station. As he stepped back into the cafe and locked the door, his mind still raced. He wasn’t quite sure why Mishima had set him off in such a way, but he was certain that something would come of it. Whether or not that something would be positive, he could not be sure, but when faced with foreign feelings, they must be dealt with somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this will go, but there will most definitely be some bad stuff happening along the way. I'm not planning on having any sort of update schedule, so it will likely be sporadic as I tend to just write when I'm in the mood.


End file.
